


Pizza and Perspective

by Batastic_Grayson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Advice, Batfamily Feels, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Growing Up, Multi, Pizza, Sibling Bonding, Soul-Searching, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim drake needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 22:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batastic_Grayson/pseuds/Batastic_Grayson
Summary: Tim is just your average teenager-- he's worried about test scores, college applications, saving the world, and measuring up to the impossible standards of Batman. His eldest brother, Dick, may be just the kind of perspective to put Tim to rights again...with the help of a little pizza, of course.





	Pizza and Perspective

It wasn’t that Tim didn’t enjoy spending time with Dick, because he did. Really. But sometimes his older brother could be a bit…ostentatious? Flashy? Boisterous might be the proper adjective. The truth was, Dick didn’t like doing anything halfway, so when Tim received a text during lunch hour that they would be having some “bro time”, he knew he was in for one hell of an afternoon.

Bruce evidently had been called away to a meeting with some corporate bigwigs across the pond and had decided to take Damian along to enforce some paternal bonding, so it was up to either Dick or Alfred to babysit. Of course, being the kind of guy he was, Dick had leapt at the opportunity to score some bonding time with his kid brother.

Which brought Tim to the present moment, striding through the greenway with quick, clean steps towards the sounds of loud radio and poor singing blaring from a motorcycle currently parked across the sidewalk. Dick sat astride the vehicle with a spare helmet tucked under his arm, and at the sight of Tim approaching, he threw up a peace sign and continued singing horridly.

In earlier days, Tim might’ve been a bit cowed by the whole performance. His classmates were staring, and it certainly looked like Dick was showboating just to be embarrassing. But the thing about Dick Grayson…he didn’t pretend. Whichever way you sliced it, he was unapologetically himself. That self just happened to be very colorful.

And very tone deaf.

Dick tossed the helmet to Tim, grinning from behind the shield of his own, “Hey buddy! Ready to go?”

Tim gave a quick dip of his chin, stuffing the helmet on and climbing onto the back of the motorcycle. His classmates stared in awe as Dick gave a quick salute, revved the engine, and then tore out of the parking lot at mach ten. Tim was forced to grab his brother about the waist to avoid flying off the back, and he wasn’t above admitting that weaving into four lane highway traffic was enough to make his heart race.

However, he also had to admit…it was kind of nice to get the blood pumping again. It had been a hellishly long day and the feel of chilly wind whipping against his school uniform was doing wonderful things for his mood. The blast of eighties music coming from the bike also made for an excellent pick-me-up, and it wasn’t long before Tim could feel himself grinning like an idiot.

He supposed that behaving like an idiot every once in a while could be nice...when his mind wasn't cluttered with everything else in the world that was.

They followed the flow of Gotham traffic on the turnpike for a while, diving deeper into the city with every mile. The buildings grew yet taller, the shadows cast over the streets longer, but Tim didn’t mind. He liked the city—the ebb and flow of heartbeats and footsteps, the smells of street vendors and gasoline. Even the occasional ruckus of car horns and police sirens. It was an iron jungle, always growing and twisting, but it was home to him.

Dick slowed at a red light, and cranking the radio down, he tossed back a shout. “How was school?”            

Tim shrugged, gripping Dick’s waist tighter when the light turned green and they wove between a stopped taxi and a city bus. “Slow.”

He felt the laugh more than he heard it. “Yeah, but it’s Friday! Two days to relax, amirite?”

“I have midterms I have to study for.”

Dick’s helmet angled back, and though it was hard to see through the visor, Tim was pretty sure he was arching a brow, “You’re gonna study the whole weekend, huh?”

Tim shrugged again, “Probably.”

Dick snorted, “Sometimes I forget how weird you are, kid.”

“Well _one_ of us had to get the brains, right?”

His brother lifted a shoulder, laughing as they turned down a side street. He angled the bike into an alcove and turned off the engine as he slipped his helmet off. Without the help of a hat, Dick’s hair looked like it had been through a spin cycle one too many times. He attempted to flatten it unsuccessfully with his palms, and eventually settled on leaving it to its own whims with a shrug.

Tim removed his own helmet and smirked, “Nice hair.”

Dick narrowed him with a coy smile, pushing a hand through the tangled mane, “Thanks. I’m going for a new look lately.”

Tim laughed, “Einstein meets Ziggy Stardust. Definitely a crowd pleaser.”

His brother wiggled his eyebrows as they made for a back alley doorway, kicking at empty bottles as they went, “Think Bruce’ll approve of a mullet for the family postcard? Business in the front, party in the back?”

Tim grimaced, imagining how much Jason would get a kick out of braiding cheerios into Dick’s hair if he did decide to go full-Tarzan. It was an image worthy of a shudder. “Unless you wanna give up your inheritance, I’d keep it above the collar.”

“You’re right…although, I would’ve loved to see the look on his face when I took off my hat at the next PR release.”

They entered through the back door of the small pizza joint giggling over what Bruce might say in response to Dick’s fabled locks. It probably would've involved lots of preening for the cameras, followed by a firm talking to. Possibly an altercation involving a pair of scissors and a tranquilizer. Either way, it was a predicament that made both boys devolve into tearful laughing, and that’s how they found themselves seated in a cozy booth at the back of Valentino’s.

Dick knew the owner from some work he did undercover a few years back, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when their drinks were free. They came here often enough that their order was memorized, and Dick had always been a charmer. A well-placed compliment earned them a spare order of breadsticks on the house, and it wasn’t many minutes later that they were tearing into a pepperoni pizza with Cokes half-drained.

Tim liked the greasy, dimly-lit restaurant perhaps more than he liked many other, seemingly more significant places. But he and Dick had been coming here for several years when they could catch a minute, and it had always been nice to ‘take off the mask’ when they did. Dick was one of the few members of the family that didn’t stand upon ceremony, and certainly never cared if Tim was as put together as he should be. Many times, this very booth had hosted Tim at his worst, when he was more a child than a warrior, and Dick had never been afraid of seeing him unravel. He’d just listened, nodded, and kept pushing pizza in his direction.

It was probably why Tim admired his eldest brother so much. He wasn’t afraid of anything. Well…of anything that _really_ mattered.  

Several minutes into eating, when their stomachs were full and Tim was starting to feel sluggish from the amount of food he’d managed to inhale, he settled back in his seat and sighed.

Dick looked up from arranging little bits of olive in a mural of sorts and offered a sighing smile. “So, wanna talk about it?”

He shrugged, “Talk about what?”

“Your day. You looked pretty crabby when I picked you up, so I figured I’d feed you before I poked the bear.”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You make me sound like Damian.”

“Well…”

Tim lifted a hand, chuckling, “Stop right there.” Dick obliged him, but it wasn’t long before he was lifting a brow expectantly and gesturing as if to usher him on. Tim didn’t particularly appreciate being pressured into sharing feelings, but he also knew that he hadn’t exactly tried to hide how long the day had been. If he really didn’t want to talk about it, wouldn’t he have tried a little harder to conceal it?

He sighed after a long moment, lifting a dismissive shoulder, “It was just…a long day. Midterms are coming up.”

Dick nodded seriously, taking a long sip of his Coke. “So you mentioned. But you always nail these kinds of things, Tim. You’re a certified genius—trust me, Bruce and I did the tests. You could probably drop out tomorrow and still be smarter than most of the people in Gotham combined.”

Tim worked for a grateful smile, but it felt halfhearted, “Yeah, well…it’s just another added pressure on top of all the other ones.”

“On top of your extracurriculars, you mean.”

He nodded, spinning his fork on the scratched tabletop. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t enjoy the work. I do. Really. I just…I feel like I’m not…present sometimes. Like I’ve got my head so caught up in what I still need to do that I lose sight of what I am doing. Like I’m missing things. And it’s just, there’s a lot going on all at once. I feel like I can’t catch it all, and then it starts to weigh on me. I know it shouldn’t, but it does? I don’t know.” He dropped the fork with a clatter, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Does that make sense?”

He didn’t look up to see what Dick’s expression was doing, but he was pretty sure it was thoughtful. Serious. Worried. It only made him feel more guilty for bringing this up at all. In reality, he knew he was just about the luckiest kid around. To be surrounded by people that loved him, going to a school that would propel his future, doing work that excited him, wanting for nothing materially…he was fortunate. And he certainly felt it most of the time. But other times…it was a lot.

It was too much.

And sometimes he just wanted to feel more normal.

“Tim…”

The soft tone brought Tim’s eyes up, and he realized his vision had gone hazy with tears. He looked down again when he caught his brother’s expression, because it was impossibly understanding in only the way that a Grayson’s could be.

“What you’re saying makes total sense, okay? I know, because I’ve been where you are.”

His gaze flickered up again, and he found Dick smiling softly at him, with a pained note coloring his eyes gray-green.

“Look, bud…it’s okay to need time. It’s okay to rearrange your priorities to make more room for yourself, right? When I was sixteen, I was a lot like you. I had twenty different things on my plate at any one time, and I felt like I had to be perfect at every one of them. I had to be on top of everything, because if I wasn’t…I was a failure, right?”

Tim nodded and sniffed discreetly, feeling a bit ashamed that he was close to having a meltdown at the back of a pizza joint over test scores, future colleges, and family expectations. It was humbling to say the least.

“But, Tim…look, it wouldn’t matter if you decided to become a toe ring salesman or the next CEO of a fortune 500. It wouldn’t matter if you wanted to leave Red Robin behind or take up the mantle permanently…we’d still be proud of you. You know that right?”

The words sounded true enough, but he didn’t quite know them. The feeling of having to stay running, stay at his highest, his best all the time, lingered like a bad smell between them. Dick sighed heavily, and it wasn’t too terribly surprising when he slid from his seat and rounded the table to squish in next to Tim. It wasn’t the first time he’d slung an arm over his shoulder and squeezed his younger brother in tight, but it certainly had the effect of making Tim feel even more fragile. Like prized pottery about to tip off the edge of a dresser.

“Hey…I will always, always be proud of you. No matter what, okay? You don’t have to try so hard all the time. You can be human sometimes too.”

Tim nodded rapidly, swiping at his eyes with his jacket sleeves. He felt like an idiot, crying over some softly spoken words of affirmation, but it was what he needed after a shitty Friday spent worrying. It was like water cooling a burn, and Tim couldn’t be more grateful than he was to Dick for giving it.

“Thanks. I…needed that.”

Dick’s arm tightened around Tim’s shoulders, and he drew in a deep inhale. “Yeah, I know.” He paused, giving a slight chuckle, “Being a teenager sucks, huh?”

Tim laughed, still sniffing away those pesky tears. “Yeah, it’s not for the faint of heart is it?”

“No, it really isn’t. But you’re a pretty brave kid, Tim…I think you’ll make it just fine.”

Dick gave one last squeeze, and then moved to his own seat across the booth. He left a lingering scent of bubblegum, pizza, and engine grease, like a circus still followed him around after all these years. But it was comforting to know that some things never changed.

They fell into mundane conversation for a half-hour longer, scrolling on their phones and sharing memes between them. It helped to clear the air, and by the time Dick was ordering two cinnamon twists to go, Tim felt a thousand times lighter. Like he’d shed an extra skin and was finally able to draw in a deep breath.

They gathered their coats as Dick laid down a wad of cash on the table, and they left out the back as Tim was still explaining his latest venture in Fortnite. When they’d climbed back onto the motorcycle and began weaving through traffic again, Tim fell silent. He’d tied his sweatshirt around his waist, and it was a strange relief to let the wind flood over his skin as they moved through the city surrounded by the purr of an engine. He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the little break from normalcy as they continued winding onwards.

It was a half hour before they reached their destination, and Tim opened his eyes expecting the manor or an arcade of some kind. He was surprised to see that they’d come to a remote pier somewhere just off the wharf, and he was even more surprised when Dick throttled off the engine and actually started striding towards the dock.

Tim followed silently, pulling back on his sweatshirt when they stopped at the edge and Dick sat with hands braced behind him, head tilted back slightly to catch the thin rays of light. Tim sat too, dangling his legs over the edge as he tried to mimic the ease in his brother’s posture. They remained this way for so long, listening to the faint bell of the buoys and the lap of water on wood, that Tim’s voice sounded awfully loud when he did finally speak.

“So how did you do it?”

Dick opened one eye that had fallen closed, raising a brow, “Hmm?”

“How did you…get over that feeling of being a failure? How did you balance it all?”

His brother closed his eyes again, smiling lightly, “Well, it’s an ongoing battle, I’ll tell you that much. But…if you’re really asking, I looked for perspective.”

Tim frowned, watching the ships that looked like tiny blobs from here, slicing through the surface of the bay. “Perspective…like, you talked to Alfred or you went soul-searching?”

“Ah, trick question. I did both.” Dick chuckled, withdrawing a hand from his pocket to scratch at his chin thoughtfully. “No, but I actually meant the soul-searching one. I started meditating and trying to find purpose inside of my own little bubble. I started…shrinking my perspective if that makes sense.”

At Tim’s silence, Dick opened his eyes and gestured out at the cutting water. “I shrank my bubble. I started thinking only about what I could do, realistically, healthfully. If it wasn’t something I could do or control, I tried to stop worrying about it. I made my expectations for myself realistic. And then…”

Tim arched his brows, “And then what?”

Dick shrugged, “Well, I found things that I liked to do. Things I didn’t have to do for anyone but me…and I invested time into them. I went on motorcycle rides and rock climbed and ate fatty food and listened to my music loud. I dedicated a couple hours a day to being alone on the trapeze and I spent the rest of my time with my family because that’s what matters to me. I make time for the little things so I’m not so overwhelmed by the big stuff.”

Tim nodded, humming, “Perspective.”

“Yep. It’s given me a great deal of freedom to be nice to myself, you know. I used to criticize everything I did, and in turn, I thought everyone else criticized me too. It’s part of what drove me away from Bruce during our fall-out.” Dick lifted a shoulder, smiling ruefully, “I’m still working on it. Ongoing, like I said.”

They fell quiet for a long spell, looking out at the fading light across Gotham’s bay. From here, everything was cut in buttery gold light, and the smog didn’t look so heavy. One might almost say the city looked beautiful at dusk.

It was Dick who eventually bumped shoulders with Tim, expression serious and open. Like he was waiting for bad news but was trying to mitigate his response. “So. Are you thinking about leaving Red Robin behind?”

Tim, who had previously been enjoying the breeze skating through his hair, was caught off guard by the question. He supposed the idea wasn’t too far out of the question, but it hadn’t honestly crossed his mind. It didn’t take much consideration to know his answer though, and his voice sounded firm and sure when he responded.

“No. Not now…maybe not ever. I enjoy the work too much.”

Dick released a pent-up sigh, like he’d been holding his breath, and he smiled softly, “Well, good. I would’ve missed you out on patrols.”

Tim smirked, “What, Jason and Damian aren’t your idea of good teammates?”

“Not when I need them to _cooperate_. We need your brains to keep the operation afloat. I think even Bruce pales in comparison to _this_ noggin.” He reached up and tapped his knuckles on Tim’s forehead, grinning.

“Well, you’re not rid of me yet. I just need to gain some…perspective. Like you said.”

Dick’s expression glowed with what looked pride, his smile so cheesy it could’ve killed someone with lactose intolerance. It was hard for Tim not to smile back, but he eventually failed miserably. He ended up elbowing his brother in the ribs and standing with a sigh, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Come on. You promised me a night of horror flicks and copious junk food. I expect you to deliver.” He shivered, noting the dip of the sun as it started to disappear behind the horizon, “Besides, I’m getting cold out here.”

 Dick shuddered as he stood, but Tim couldn’t tell if it was at the mention of horror movies or because of the weather. He didn’t particularly care. His mood was so improved in fact, that he found himself climbing on the front of the motorcycle, tossing Dick the second helmet as he turned over the ignition.

“You wanna drive?”

He lifted a shoulder, patting the seat at his back. “I’ve got my license.”

Dick merely raised a brow, slipping on the helmet with a smirk when he climbed behind Tim. “Okay…just don’t kill us! This bike was a gift.”

Tim revved the engine, admiring the hum of the engine as he spun away from their spot with a spray of gravel. It was more than a little gratifying when Dick let out a fearful holler and gripped Tim’s waist with the strength of a cobra to stay on. Tim just laughed and sped through the deserted wharf faster.

What could he say? He was gaining perspective.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little puff piece about Tim and Dick's friendship. It doesn't get enough airtime in my opinion, and I really enjoy writing their softer, more pliable personalities. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I do not own DC or their characters. I do own this story!


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